Traitors and Truths
by Alia Inverse
Summary: The knights found the dragon egg before Merlin could take it to the Great Dragon. Truths are told, people get hurt and the warlock finds himself banished from Camelot. Can he continue to help Arthur from the shadows? Set after 'Aithusa' / Indefinite HIATUS
1. A Farewell and a Greeting

**Warnings: Spoilers of season 4, and probably some of the other seasons as well. No pairings except canon.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, and if I did, I would fire Colin's and Angel's Spanish voice actors. It isn't **_**that**_** difficult to put some emotion into it, guys! Just look at the originals!**

**Currently unbeta'ed, but searching for beta-reader. If someone wants to do it, please let me know ^^.**

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><p><strong>Ch.01 _ A farewell and a greeting<strong>

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><p>Time seemed to freeze, mocking them, taunting them to break the precarious balance it had set. Each second blended with the next, heavy and ominous. The silence was deafening; even the birds stood still, as if they were aware of the seriousness of the situation.<p>

The five knights had formed a semicircle, not daring to unsheathe their swords, as it that was the worst sin they could ever commit, and their eyes were fixed on the object the servant was cradling close to his chest, blue and smooth and _regal_, but at the same time lethal, a weapon of massive destruction.

"Let go of that egg." The blond, who seemed to be the leader, said, halfway between an order and a plea, but the servant didn't relax his pose, maintaining the King's gaze and standing a bit straighter.

"No."

Another moment of silence, while each party seemed to go through their options; the knights knew that they were superior in every aspect, that they could use force and that thing would be destroyed in a matter of seconds; but having a close ally, a friend standing between them and their mission made them falter.

"Why do you protect it? That thing could kill us all. We have to destroy it, now."

"_That thing_ is not even born! What crime has he done? Will you condemn it just because of what he is?"

"It is a _dragon!_ It can't feel like you or I, it is a _beast_. If we let it free, he will turn against us! Have you forgotten what his kind can do? What it did to us?" If the leader had been able to foresee what his words would bring, he might have hesitated before bringing back those old memories. But he didn't.

The raven haired young man lost the few doubts he had been feeling until that moment. A part of his mind was screaming to shut up like always and keep pretending that he was just a servant. To let the egg join the list of all those people who had died on behalf of the future of Albion. For so many years he had put up with everything, bouncing back every time tragedy stuck, driven forward by the dream of magic returning and to be finally, for the first time in his life, completely free, free to be what he was, a being of the Old Religion, the same as the little creature he had in his arms. Free from the retribution the Laws had set for him, from the very moment of his birth.

But things had changed now. He had destroyed everything in a moment of weakness, when the late king was about to die. It didn't bring him any peace to know that it wasn't his fault and that he had been outsmarted by the treason that lurked in the Court when he, once more, had to hide the truth just to be allowed to continue by the side of someone whose heart seemed to have hardened forever against magic.

Slowly but surely, the larger part of his mind won his inner battle. The taunts, the bad jokes, he could put up with. Have everyone think he was an idiot, that the knights forced him to do all the word and took his food in the trip, that they didn't even consider listening to him, he could overlook it. But their blindness, their hatred against his _kin,_ against the only ones who could at least try to understand…

"Have _you_ forgotten why he attacked us? Do you think he found pleasure in doing what he did?" His voice was rising; he took another step backwards, knowing that this was one path he did not want to take. "If you want to blame someone, why don't you blame your father?" There was a collective gasp; Uther was still taboo in any conversation, especially if his son was within hearing range.

"Watch your tongue, Merlin_. _Don't you dare..."

"Can't you see the mistakes he made, the mistakes you are doing right now?"

"Shut up!"

"No. No, for once in your life think with your head, Arthur! He killed every one of his kin. He prosecuted all of the dragons and dragonlords, he stole everything from them, and he tricked and captured Kilgarrah just to make an example! Can you imagine what it means to be the last of your kind? To be alone for as long as you live? Of course you can't!"

"Dragons are evil! Someone had to eradicate that plague from the world!"

"No. No one has the right to judge a species for what they didn't do. Dragons are magical creatures, they can feel, and they can help us, if we listen. The Great Dragon could have let you die, too many times to count, but he didn't! They aren't less than any man!"

Arthur broke the circle of knights, extending his arm almost as if he commanded the egg to come to him, exuding an aura of pure killing intent. He had barely advanced three steps when someone restrained him from behind; the voice of one of the knights sounded somewhere close to his ear. "No, Arthur!" Gwaine's. "This is not the way."

"Then all the more reason to… destroy this egg now, before he comes to this world." It was Leon, halfway between him and Merlin, as if he was unsure of what to do. "You said it, how lonely it is to be the last. The Great Dragon has died; shouldn't we prevent this one's pain now?" It was clear in his voice that he had doubts now, but no matter what his King and his kingdom were always his priority.

Merlin faltered visibly, as if he had run out of counters to say. Leon took another step forward, and Gwaine let go of the blond, but the tension was still present everywhere.

"Please, leave him alone."

"Ha! And what are you going to do, _Mer_lin_?_" Days later, the king would regret his vicious tone, and would remember bitterly all the times when he belittled his manservant. But for now, he only feels the need to hurt him, and make him see all the pressure he is under. "Hide it under your bed? Don't talk about what you can't understand!"

"_I_ am going to take it somewhere when no one else can ever hurt him again. I'm going to do everything in my power to help him hatch, and to make sure he isn't consumed by hatred. Please, try to open your eyes and _see_ what is around you. You can't keep brooding forever!"

"What. Did you say?" Both of them had forgotten everything else, the forest, the knights, their destiny. They were hovering on the edge of the knife, and a bad choice of words would destroy their relationship as they knew it. "You, are an idiot. You don't know anything about what it means to have the world upon your shoulders. You don't know what it means to lose someone, and have to watch their killers go free! You say that a dragon can _help_ us? What would you know? You are _just_ a servant."

"I know, Arthur. I know exactly how it feels. A dragonlord power is inherited from father to son… in death." The warlock's knuckles were white. He had gone too far, he knew it. Deep down, he wondered what Kilgarrah would have said.

Percival was the first one to make the connection. He hadn't known Merlin for long, but Lancelot's tales and his own impressions were enough to know that he would never say something like that without a motive. He suddenly recalled a memory of a long time ago; when they had heard about the dragon, Lancelot had sent Merlin a knowing look, half amused and half annoyed, as he often did when this kind of deed were mentioned. And the boy had looked as if he was in pain.

Gwaine noticed immediately after. It had been very subtle, a minor inflection in the words father and death, which reminded him of a conversation occurred more than one year ago. The servant whose father had been banished for serving the king, and had died shortly after they met. He had always known that there was something different about Merlin… was this it?

Leon realized, but his head refused to believe it. He had heard the tale of Balinor's death, and had often wondered about the possibilities of killing a dragon without any help, one on one, after days of failing with the best equipment. Arthur and Merlin had barely had a scratch on them that night, and the boy had seemed unnaturally gloom for days, putting a fake smile on every time someone celebrated. At the time he had dismissed it as survivor's guilt. This however, would explain so many things… and pose so many questions.

Elyan didn't want to think of the possibilities. Merlin was too good, too loyal to ever betray Arthur, and that was something obvious for anyone who spent even a week with them. He was horrified with Arthur's hurtful words. At the very least, the king should know how much Lancelot's death had meant to his friend; was it so strange that he wanted to spare another life, even if it was a dragon's?

Arthur was silent.

"Are you saying that there is a dragonlord still alive? Tell me where he is."

"What?"

"Dragonlords are a threat. They might not be magic users, but they are as corrupted as them. They must be stopped. Especially if you are stupid enough to give them a weapon so willingly."

"Arthur…"

"If you don't, it will be considered treason against your king! Against Camelot!"

In the silence that followed, Merlin felt as if everyone should have heard his heart break. He felt tired, and almost laughed out loud at the unfairness of it all. Yes… it seemed that even if he said the truth, Arthur wouldn't hear it. Their positions hadn't changed at all since the day they met. Even now, a frantic voice in the back of his head was begging him to stop. But a voice from his past silenced it. _You've been pretending for so long, that you've actually forgotten who you are._

"_I_ am the last dragonlord. Balinor was my father, and he died protecting me. And _I_ showed mercy to Kilgarrah, I allowed him to live, and in turn he showed clemency to Camelot."

"I should run you through right now."

"You have a good heart; you can be a great King, one whose people will love. You just need to get rid of your insecurities, and stand for yourself. I trust you will do the right thing." The dragonlord stood straight, with a confidence they had never seen before, protecting the egg with a finality that had all of the knights doubting on themselves. They turned to their leader, who was livid with rage. A soft breeze passed between them, and a sparrow left a nearby tree, croaking loudly. The king turned around, and spoke without looking at his fr... former manservant.

"Don't bother to return to Camelot. From now on, you are banished on pain of death."

And he left, not seeing the look of total despair on the raven head as he went back to the horses. The knights stood still for one more second, a second that seemed to last forever, but in the end they all turned away. Gwaine casted one last glance towards his friend, deciding to disobey, to stay behind, but the former servant smiled sadly, resigned. The knight understood; _protect Arthur on my behalf._ He was the last to leave, swearing to himself that he wouldn't fail that man who was too selfless for his own good.

Merlin stood still as the knights mounted their horses and left. He waited until the dust settled behind them and he could no longer hear them before allowing himself to break. He fell to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably without letting go of his little ward. When he finally managed to stand again, his legs were stiff and his back hurt. He carefully tucked the egg into the bag, and headed west, where he remembered seeing a large clearing. After securing the horse a bit into the woods, he doubted again. How silly it was, to be afraid of what the Dragon could say now. He called.

As always, he heard him before he could see him; the dragon flew over his head, gliding over the forest and obscuring the setting sun as he settled in front of him, frowning in concern.

"I can feel your sadness, young warlock. Did you…?"

"No… no, the egg is fine. I saved it." He set the egg carefully in the ground before collapsing by his side once again. He smiled bashfully. "But I did something stupid."

"It is not the first time that is the case." The dragon chastised, but they both knew that there was no ill intent behind those words. "You will find a way to fix it."

Merlin hugged his knees and rested his chin on top of them, looking somewhere faraway. "I'm not sure about that. Arthur found the egg. It was a stupid accident; Gwaine was trying to prank me and took the bag where it was… He –Arthur– said things, and I… I told him I am a dragonlord. He's banished me."

"That was indeed foolish, young warlock."

"It's just that… I thought he had changed a little since then. But if it isn't his father, he needs the Court's permission, or Aggravaine's and he keeps ignoring me. He acts as if he is the only one allowed to mourn, and as if he is the only one with responsibilities. Maybe it would all be different if I hadn't interfered with Uther's death. Maybe I brought this upon myself."

"You took a great chance, Merlin, and you lost. But I told you once; destiny is not something that can be prevented, no matter how hard you try. As long as you both breathe, Albion won't have fallen yet."

"What else can I do? Arthur won't survive without me! He can't die, not after everything we have been through. What should I do?"

"Don't ask when you already have your answer."

After a few minutes, Merlin extended his hand to caress the smooth surface of the egg who had started his predicament. Yes, he would keep protecting Arthur from a distance if that is what it took; it was something he had often pondered, back when Uther was still king, in case he was found out. That thought filled him with relief, and he smiled, feeling lighter than ever; even there, in the middle of nowhere and separated from everything, he felt as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders; his friends now knew one of his secrets. Maybe not the greatest and certainly not one well received, but it still felt good. If –when – they meet again, one of the barriers would have fallen.

"When will the egg hatch?"

"Young dragons were called into the world by the dragonlords. Only they have the power to summon them from the egg. As the last dragonlord, this solemn duty falls to you, Merlin."

"How do I summon him?"

"You must give the dragon… a name."

The warlock nodded and closed his eyes, pushing away all of his thoughts for this. He submerged in the darkness and the void, and searched deep within himself. Finally, he saw a small light dancing teasingly just out of reach. It was white and pure, and pulsed with life.

"Aithusa" Until the voice stopped, he didn't realize it was his own. The shock got him out of his trance, but before he had time to realize what had happened, a sound directed their attention towards the egg, where a large crack was forming, advancing and breaking in innumerable lines. A small head was seen, then a wing, until a baby dragon was out, almost too big to have fit in that tiny space. It was the most beautiful thing the dragonlord had ever seen.

"A white dragon… is indeed a rare thing. And fitting. For in the dragon tongue, you named him after the Light of the Sun. No dragon birth is without meaning. Sometimes the meaning is hard to see, but this time I believed it is clear. The white dragon bodes well for Albion. For you. And Arthur. And for the land that you will build together."

Suddenly it was as if he had never had a reason to doubt. Of course, this was not the end. If the prat thought he had gotten rid of him, he had another thing coming.

"I'll need to communicate with someone inside the citadel. Gwaine, Gaius, maybe Gwen. People know me, I won't be able to infiltrate as easily as before. I'll need to be close on tournaments, or if a noble visits… that's when most of the attacks happen. The real problem is Morgana, although if anything she'll be angry because Arthur didn't kill me… Maybe I could disguise myself? Dragoon won't do me any good, but… can you help me with that, Kilgarrah?"

The dragon chuckled, enjoying his usual platter. The baby dragon was fighting to stand on his feet, already following the warlock with his head and making happy noises as the man paced. After a while he froze, looking around him. He lurched towards the warlock, but before he could react Aithusa had dived to the ground, and emerged triumphantly with a mouse squirming on his grip. That distracted Merlin from his musings, as he congratulated the little dragon happily and patted his head with as much pride a father has for his son.

"Transfiguration is not an easy art, young warlock, and is not something I can teach you. I believe, however, that you know who can help you on your quest."

Merlin looked confused, but eventually he nodded. "The druids? I wouldn't have found Aithusa without them… I wonder if they'll want to help me."

"They already know of your situation. They'll help."

"Alright… I should hurry, before that clotpole does something idiotic without me." Even so, he didn't make a move, reluctant to leave. "Also, is there a way to keep an eye on Arthur from a distance? I remember reading something like that in my spellbook, but I can't exactly go check it out now, can I?"

The dragon's tone was serious, that was a question he had been expecting. "Scrying is the easiest and most natural way, but it is not something you have the time or materials to master now. There is another way. You will need a crystal, formed in a cave of magical attributes. Not the Crystal Cave." He added when the man cringed. "The crystal you seek, unlike those you've encountered in the past, is not powerful enough to follow the currents of time; but it will allow you to call forth the images of those you wish to protect."

"Where do I find it?"

"The best place would be the Valley of the Fallen Kings. It is, after all, a place imbibed on the Old Religion. That is where you'll find a crystal of the best quality."

"As long as I don't run against any bandits." He sat cross-legged on the grass, and Aithusa decided to take it as an invitation to climb onto him and doze off, seeking another living being's warmth. With a yelp, Merlin tried to shake him off, but failed miserably. He sighed, and Kilgarrah laughed good naturedly.

"He already likes you, young warlock."

"Did I do the right thing?" It was barely a whisper, but the adult dragon heard it anyway.

"You saved his life at a great risk for yourself. For that I am most grateful."

"When will he learn to talk? And to fly? Can you tell me?"

Kilgarrah had always been a solitary being, even in the times before the Great Purge. Twenty years in a cave with no one else but his thoughts only served to further separate him from the rest of the world. But in that moment, he felt that the boy and the little dragon didn't want to be left alone that night; and something inside of him reacted to that. He talked for hours, recalling his past, things that he had believed forgotten until the youngsters fell asleep. As the darkness receded and dawn came, he finally felt glad to have survived for so long.

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><p><em><strong>Next chapter: The king's solitude<strong>_**. In which everyone must deal with the aftermath of their actions, and an evil plot begins to unravel.**

**This question has been pestering me for a while; had the egg been found, who would Merlin choose the dragon or his secret? And the answer seemed to be fairly obvious, because he wouldn't be the idiot we all love and root for otherwise. I hope the characters weren't too OOC. ****Future chapters will be somewhat influenced by the events on season 4, but the story will differ from canon quite a lot. **

**Also, I apologize for any mistakes I could have made, please review if you have the time and let me know your opinion!**


	2. The King's Solitude

**Warnings and disclaimers: First chapter.**

**The response to the first chapter was so great, thank you very much to all of you who reviewed, favorited, alerted and liked this story! It really made my day! ****I hope this doesn't disappoint ^^.**

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><p><strong>Ch.02 _ The king's solitude<strong>

Someone opened rather rudely the curtains of the luxurious room, and the king groaned, trying to pull up the covers of his bed, when he realized he hadn't even bothered to change the night before, much less prepare the bed. He turned on his back blurry eyed, about to told his idiotic manservant off when an unfamiliar person assaulted him with dishes and knives and forks, before he managed to get rid of him. Seeing _George's_ work only managed to tick him off even more, and he was about to storm down Gaius' chambers when the reality of the situation came crashing onto him.

Merlin wouldn't come back again. He had banished him. The _dragonlord_, he reeled. He fell back on the bed, and dismissed the frantic manservant with a wave of his hand and a scowl. He had no interest whatsoever in hearing a bunch of geezers talk, or to train some spineless men or whatever duty he was supposed to attend to. He was determined to spend the day on bed and convince himself that all had been a nightmare and soon the annoying idiot will barge in and start blabbering about who knows what.

But he knew the truth; he had already felt like this before, back when he found out about Morgana. It was the hurt of betrayal. At this point in his life, one would think that he would have gotten used to it already, it was always the same. When he thought that he could finally trust someone, the supernatural turned them against him, as if Fate was playing a sick game with him. Who would be the next traitor? Gwen? Aggravaine? Things had gone downhill since his father's death, he just couldn't cope and he found himself cursing his fr… servant for having such horrible timing.

He got out of bed with a jolt, trying to shake those unwanted thoughts, and finally decided to change –because he _could_ dress himself, thank you very much– and stormed off to the training grounds, ready to beat some poor squire senseless. Or if they were lucky, maybe he'd just slaughter some dummies. Of course he didn't take into account that some of the Knights of the Round Table could be there; the sight of Elyan talking with Gwaine and Leon did nothing to reassure him, and instead it made him feel worse. Where they judging him? Had he been too harsh?

… No, Merlin had been protecting a beast. He had brought it upon himself. And he had broken the law, hadn't he? He didn't seem to have had any choice in the matter of becoming a dragonlord. He had inherited it from his father, a man who had raided in the help of Camelot even though he held such a great grudge against Uther…

No! He shouldn't try to understand the people corrupted by magic, even if it was just power over the dragons. They were all treacherous, they all tried to kill him and destroy his home. Morgana, the same girl he had grown up with, had turned against them so suddenly; it would be only a matter of time before Merlin did too. Something inside of him rebelled against that thought, but he refused to acknowledge it.

He threw his weaponry back at the armory, deciding that he could make himself useful sorting out the paperwork he had to deal with in an almost daily basis. If anything, that would keep his mind occupied for a few hours before he drove himself crazy. Just his luck that, when he was crossing the courtyard, he spotted Gaius coming back from his rounds in the lower town. He suddenly realized that he had not spoken a word to him ever since he came back; did he even know what had happened to his ward? Which brought another unwanted question: Did he know about what he was? Had he been deceived too?

Ah, but that moron couldn't tell a lie to save his life. There's no way he could have kept it from Gaius. Almost as if the old man knew what Arthur was thinking, he looked up, directly at him, and Arthur saw all the emotions that he had been dreading: disappointment, hurt… but also a sort of melancholy, like this was something expected for which the physician had been preparing for a long time. Once again, the prince turned on his heels and fled to his room, wishing once more for unconsciousness.

The door slammed shut behind him. The next hours passed as a blur, and he wouldn't have been able to tell what exactly had he been signing when lunch was brought by a much quieter George, who shot a deadly glare at the state of the room before disappearing in silence. It was barely half an hour later when the door burst open and Arthur mentally cursed himself when he pictured Merlin coming. Suffice to say, he wasn't in the best of moods for whatever Aggravaine thought he needed to say, but he was still his uncle.

"Arthur, you didn't come to the Council meeting this morning."

"There were other matters that required my attention." He said, refusing to feel guilty about failing on his duties as well.

"I was hoping you would tell me what happened on your quest, Arthur. What is bothering you? Is the egg destroyed?"

Arthur couldn't help to smile; of course he could count on his uncle worrying, they were family. The thought made him feel slightly better, and he answered without giving it much thought. "There was a trap and the tomb fell. The egg and the intruder were inside." He faltered and stopped, opening his eyes slightly, realizing the half-truth as he said it. Why had he done it? He wondered if he should take it back, but he didn't want to raise any questions, so he stayed silent.

"And… your manservant? Was he inside too?"

"No!" The blond bit his lip at his outburst, before composing himself. "He had been consorting with criminals, so I banished him."

"Banished? My Lord, if that is the case, shouldn't more… drastic methods be used?"

"Are you saying I should have killed a man in cold blood? No, he didn't openly attack me. He will be far from Camelot by now; we will never see him again."

If he had not been examining his rug so intently, he would have seen the victorious smirk on his uncle's face. Finally some good news for his Lady Morgana, even if he couldn't understand his nephew's and niece's fixation on the boy. "I'll inform the Council of your success on your behalf, Your Highness. Make sure to rest, I'm sure it has been a long journey." With a flourish of his robes, he left the room, heading for the stables.

Once he was inside, a suspicious man dressed as stablehand approached him, and murmured something only for him to hear. There were rumors of a sighting of Caerleon's men inside Camelot. His smile grew larger.

Good news indeed.

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Very much like the prince, the warlock woke with no recollection of where he was or why his back hurt like he had been carrying a bag of sand for hours, but he soon got his answer as he found a white little dragon sleeping peacefully on his stomach. The sight, however, only served to bring back the memories of yesterday, his banishment, and his quest. Of course, given that by staying he was already breaking the law, searching for the druids wouldn't change things all that much.

Aithusa stirred when he began to move, and whined when his warmth source moved further from him. The clearing was empty, but he had barely had time to wonder where Kilgarrah was when the Great Dragon landed in front of them.

"I see you are awake. I believe it is time to take our separate paths… for now."

Merlin nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Yes. I need to find the druids."

"What is bothering you, young warlock?"

"I think I am… apprehensive about this. I haven't had that much contact with them and it hasn't always been good. There was that time with Mordred, and when Morgana fled… and the Cup of Life. I guess I am afraid they won't be… welcoming."

"The path of Emrys has not been, and will never be easy. You make mistakes like any human, but because of your destiny, they bring worse consequences than any other's. But you are strong, Merlin, and your good deeds outweigh your mistakes. Do not fear the past or what the future may bring."

"Yes… thanks. I needed to hear that."

Kilgarrah extended his wings and flew away, with Aithusa clinging firmly on his neck; it would be a few days before he could fully fly on his own, and even then he'd have to be careful of the winds and the cold. Merlin waited until he couldn't see them anymore before going back to the place where he had left the horse.

He leisurely rode back to the clearing where the druids had contacted him, trying to stay calm; surely Arthur _could_ stay out of trouble on his own by one or two days? He didn't know what help he could get, and how long before he could actually use it, even if he was a fast learner when it came to spell and magic –one upside of being Emrys, he supposed.

He dismounted when he spotted it in the distance; if the druids weren't there, he was planning to go to the cave where the Cup of Life had been, in Cenred's lands –or what had been his anyway. There was no one there, and Merlin decided to look for tracks; he knew he was pretty much hopeless in that aspect and he doubted that the druids _left_ any obvious tracks, but he had to try.

The answer came to his mind in a flash. Of course there weren't _physical_ tracks, but maybe there was some kind of magical signal around! He concentrated, closing his eyes, and finally he found a small gleam somewhere in front of him; it was so weak that he might have imagined it, but he didn't have any other leads, so he hurried towards it. Once he reached it –a completely normal tree in the forest– he scouted again and was rewarded with another pulse of magic to his right. He continued to move through the forest in this fashion for a long time, before he finally reached what seemed to have been a camp; there was the unmistakable remains of a fireplace and the grass was wilted here and there.

They appeared abruptly, twelve people altogether, almost as if they had always been there. Merlin noticed that all the druids he had encountered before seemed to like this kind of flashy entrances. He tried to hide his nerves as the leader advanced towards him; he was the same that had warned him about the Tomb of Ashkanar.

"Emrys."

Come to think of it, should he remember the man's name? Had he ever known it? It was frustrating that he didn't know anyone, but everybody seemed to know him. He hesitated, not sure about how to break his predicament to them; it felt as if their positions had been reversed.

"The egg has been hatched. The dragon is safe." He said, mentally kicking himself for his lame choice of words. "A white dragon."

The druid nodded but, as always, it was impossible to figure out what was going through his mind, his expression was as controlled as ever. "It is a sign of hope for the magical community. But that is not the reason why you seek us."

"No. There were some complications. I might have strayed from destiny; I am not allowed to return to Arthur's side." Since when did he speak with such fancy words? His nerves were certainly making a number on him. Arthur would be laughing his head off by now, or at least he would be staring at him like he had just seen a ghost. "I wanted… I wanted to ask for the help of the druids. I need to learn more about magic. If it is alright with you, of course."

He bit his tongue before starting to ramble, since it wouldn't help his case. The druids didn't move a muscle, and it was unnerving him. Was that a yes? A no? Finally the druid leader smiled, a very small one that was more of an unconscious twitch of the mouth than a smile. "Destiny cannot be denied. We were told that the time would come when Emrys would seek us. Come."

Merlin tried not to look too relieved by that answer, since he was supposed to be a great warlock and all that. The group began moving, two steps behind him and the leader; a show of respect. The silence was too solemn, but he couldn't find what to say, so he kept quiet.

So caught up he was in his thoughts, that he almost missed a cave partially hidden among the trees. More druids appeared at the entrance, and a brunette that looked just a few years older than Merlin walked with grace towards them. "Uncle." She said, managing to ask a hundred questions with that one word and a brief glance to where Merlin was. After a while she nodded, and Merlin imagined than some kind of mental exchange had just taken place. She then turned to him. "It's good to meet you at last, Emrys."

Merlin awkwardly greeted her, realizing bitterly that he would not get rid of his other name for as long as he stayed with the druids; it wasn't that he disliked it per se, but it never failed to remind him of his responsibility. And the prat thought he had it hard, he huffed. Would it really kill him to stop being such an insensitive, conceited, attention-seeking clotpole? He refused to dwell any longer on the thought, convincing himself once more that everything was going to be alright… something that he had mastered years ago.

As he accompanied the group inside, however, his thoughts travelled once again to Camelot, to the people he had befriended there, and he couldn't help but wonder how they had taken the news of his supposed betrayal. More than anything, he wished that Gaius would understand.

~)*(~

Unbeknownst to the warlock, Gaius was also thinking about his ward. He had kept a façade of normality through the morning, supplying remedies for colds and bruises, but he hadn't been able to hide his emotions properly; many had asked today about his health, and the physician knew it was only a matter of time before the story spread through the whole city. The castle staff was not known by their secrecy, and as Arthur's servant and Gaius's ward, Merlin was enough well-known and well-liked to become a topic of conversation for a few days. He wondered it that would be better or worse than having the townspeople ignore him.

He was sure that the events of last night were going to haunt him for as long as he lived. When he had seen the knights arrive last night, grim and solemn, and he noticed that the warlock wasn't with them, he had immediately panicked, imagining everything that could have gone wrong. Maybe this time the threat had been too much even for his boy. He stepped outside, determined to get some answers, but when Arthur ignored him and he discovered Gwaine's dirty looks towards the king, his thoughts took a turn for the worse. Maybe it had not been Julius who had endangered Merlin.

Surprisingly, it was Percival the one who stayed behind and told him everything that had happened, while the rest of the knights disbanded without a word. Lancelot's death had brought the knight even closer to his ward, and he spoke with the same hint of amused incredulity his late friend had used when referring to Merlin's magical deeds.

For a moment it had felt as if the world came crashing upon his shoulders; the image of another dragonlord fleeing in the night had occupied his thoughts, and he almost laughed at the irony that in the end it had been one of the most recent and less illegal secrets the one who had taken his ward from him. He had to keep telling himself that it could have been worse. Merlin wasn't dead. He hadn't been executed. He had to keep thinking like that; it wasn't the first time the old man had to refuse to acknowledge his worries to keep going on.

Oh, he had thought about telling Arthur, he truly had. He might have done it, if Merlin wasn't Emrys, if Arthur wasn't the Once and Future King. But as it was, he found that he had to believe in their destiny; they had to learn this lesson from themselves, they had to regain their trust for themselves or everything his ward had worked for would be destroyed. He couldn't risk the prince acting over some kind of misplaced sense of duty; he knew Merlin would not want that.

When the physician arrived at his chambers, he found them already occupied; Gwen lifted her head and her eyes were a bit puffy, as if she had been crying. She hadn't found out until the morning, when a rather distraught Elyan had told her. It didn't surprise Gaius to find her there, and he welcomed her presence; she had been threatened by magic many times, yet the maid was the first one to come to Merlin's aid when he need it, like the time with the goblin. Like his ward, he believed that Gwen would probably be the most accepting, should he ever be able to tell the truth. Now, it was being proven.

"Oh, Gaius… I can't believe this is happening." He left the medicine bag on the table and sat next to her, willing her to continue. "I can't believe he is gone."

"He will be fine Gwen. We must trust him." Like always.

"But Gaius! He had a life here, friends and family, what is he going to do now?"

"He can return to Ealdor with his mother." But both knew that it was a lie. Merlin would never accept defeat that easily.

"Is it true? He was… is a dragonlord?"

"Yes."

"Since… since when?" Gaius sighed, relenting under Gwen's pained tone.

"When a dragonlord dies, his powers are passed down to their closest kin; normally to the firstborn son." He evaded the question that he knew was coming, feeling as if he was betraying his old friend. "King Uther's prosecution of the magical folk reached far. Even further than the border of Camelot. Many had to flee, and many had to leave behind those they cared about, or see them suffer under the Purge's wrath."

"The dragonlord Arthur and Merlin were searching for. Bal… Baldinar. He was… oh my goodness."

"Merlin has never blamed Arthur for what happened. But I know he blamed himself."

"I need to speak to Arthur. He was angry, but he must see reason now. Merlin would never betray him, he would-"

"Gwen. Gwen! No. You must not do this. Yes, Merlin would never betray Arthur. But Arthur _has_ betrayed him. And if Arthur doesn't fully trust him, _he_ will be the one to keep betraying Merlin_. _And yes,we could try to explain it to the King, but what would happen if Merlin was allowed to come back only because of pity? How long would it be before another threat came, before someone else accused him of a crime he didn't commit, and then who would protect him from the King's law? I am sorry Gwen, but I cannot let that happen."

"Arthur was confused, he is having a hard time right now. He will realize it was a mistake. It won't happen again."

"_Arthur_ is having a hard time? Have you thought about how Merlin felt when his father died? That boy hides his emotions so well, sometimes not even him is aware of them. Gwen, he couldn't even go to Ealdor to tell his mother!"

"But…"

"No. If Merlin decides to forgive Arthur, I will respect it. But in all of the years he has spent in Camelot, there was only one person who cared enough to see the real him. That it's something that can't be changed."

That left the maid speechless. Only one person who cared? That was not true! Merlin had so many friends in the citadel, and there were the Knights of the Round Table, and her. She had been Merlin's friend longer than anyone else, it was her help he had asked for when he couldn't go to Arthur… but she couldn't bring herself to say it. Gwen remembered how she felt when her father had died and yet she had not been able to see the signs, some friend she was.

"Who? Where is that person?"

"He is dead." Gwen looked at him quizzically, and the old man continued. "It was Lancelot."

That was too much; it was still too raw, so the girl turned around and fled, unable to hear anything else for tonight. Gaius sighed; with Morgana still lurking in the dark and the instability that had inevitably followed the coronation, the man felt older than ever, hoping that the crisis would pass soon, before someone did something they would all regret.

~)*(~

Miles away, a group of fifteen men wandered in the woods, looking for tracks with the confidence of someone who had done it many times before. The leader, a bearded man on his fifties with an air of nobility around him, smirked ferally when he caught sight of what he had been looking for; the golden Pendragon crest embroiled on twin red capes, two knights of Camelot returning from a patrol around the out layer lands. It was time to have a little fun.

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><p><em><strong>Next chapter: A grave mistake<strong>_**. In which there are decisions to make and not everyone chooses wisely.**

_04/04: Re-posted because it seems like it wasn't showing ^^. I 'm still having problems with the site, but it does seem to be more or less fixed, so here we go._

_04/11: The conversation between Gwen and Gaius has been expanded, thanks to Jane Mays' suggestion. Thanks for your help!_

**Please leave a review if you have the time! ****Thank you!**


	3. A Grave Mistake

**Warnings and disclaimers: First chapter.**

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><p><strong>Ch.03 _ A grave mistake<strong>

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><p>With a fickle of his wrist, the newly cut firewood flew to the young man arms, and he returned to the camp. After taking just a few steps, a woman joined him, carrying a large bucket of water with ease, probably having enchanted it to make it weigh less.<p>

"Why didn't you use magic to chop that? It would have been easier and faster."

"It didn't end well last time I tried." He chuckled, a bit sadly.

"Did someone… you know… see you?"

"Um? Oh no! Well… one person did, but it had been his idea to begin with so he shouldn't really count." The raven haired shook his head. "Let's just say that a grumpy old man almost shrunk a few centimeters courtesy of a falling tree, and we got in the black list of the most _vocal_ man in the village. When our mothers found out they were furious."

"When was that?"

"We were… ten I think. Um, Will was already eleven by then. He _always_ used that against me."

"I'm sorry."

Merlin stopped right on his tracks, startled, before resuming his march to the druids. "Why would you say that?"

"You have grieved for your friend, a long time ago. It is clear in your voice. I'm sorry for making you remember something you didn't wish to."

"No… it's fine now. It really has been a long time, I have moved on."

"I'm sure. But sometimes… you can never truly let go." After her words he stopped again, this time facing the druid and making her stop by his side.

"Can I ask you something?" She nodded. "Aren't you… I mean, the druids… aren't you angry at me?"

She seemed surprised, but there seemed to be understanding as well. She looked him in the eye. "Why?"

"For everything that has gone wrong. I lost the Cup of Life your people entrusted to me. I've had to watch innocent people be executed, sorcerers and not. I hardened Arthur's heart when magic was almost free again, and then forced him to push me away with my selfishness. I have caused you so much suffering, and you still speak of me and Arthur so… so _well_."

"It is not by his mistakes that a man must be judged, Emrys, but by what he does to make amends. Even among the magical people there are those who hate you, what you have done and what you represent. But for many more you are a symbol of hope; don't disappoint the faith placed on you."

"Sometimes I feel like a child. There is still so much I don't know."

"We are still toddlers when compared to the Great Dragon. We aren't even newborns when compared to the Old Religion. People spend their whole lives maturing, even if they don't realize it." She started walking once more, and no one spoke another word until they arrived at the cave. Merlin realized that she had said something very similar to Kilgarrah's words the other day, and smiled, sensing how the pieces began to fall into place once more.

The druid's chief –Iseldir, he had managed to eavesdrop his name– finished his conversation with two of the elders and quickly joined him. "Ah, Emrys. May I have a word with you?" Merlin left the wood in the fireplace and accompanied him, dusting his clothes on the way. A small group of children passed half-running by his side, their eyes flashing gold at what seeming like a leaves' race, floating a couple of meters above ground. He chuckled happily, but couldn't shrug the irrational fear at such an _open_ display of magic.

"This is how it was in the days of my youth. And this how I hope it will be for my son's son." The druid stated, and Merlin had to wonder if he had imagined the melancholy of his voice when his eyes remained as impassive as ever.

"I have decided already that I will trust Arthur." Iseldir didn't answer, and Merlin continued. "But I can't help him with my current knowledge. Magic is what I _am_, and still there are times when it feels so foreign. Compared to others like Sigan or Nimueh, or your people, I realize that this won't be enough. Arthur has already become King; it is time that I truly become Emrys."

"Those are wise words. Yes, the foundations of magic are so deep than no man has ever come close to understanding it completely. What those who despise it or abuse it fail to realize is that it is a part of the world as is the air, invisible but always present." Iseldir was observing him sternly, and Merlin felt like this was all some kind of test. "This is not something that can be rationalized or that can be taught. But it is something that you must know."

"Then… how?"

"Tomorrow, there will be a full moon. Then, we will show you. Is this what you want?"

"Yes. Of course I do!"

"It won't be easy, Emrys. There is a chance that you won't come back, and it certainly won't be unchanged."

"That… might be. But I need to do this, I can feel it."

The druid chief positively smiled then. "Very well."

~)*(~

All Arthur wanted was some peace and quiet to figure out how to take everything in. The events were spiraling out of control, and the last he needed was another threat on his kingdom when he did not even know how to face his most trusted allies. He had never felt so lost, and his earlier argument with Gwen still weighed down on his mind.

"Arthur. We need to talk." She had said, and she had looked strange, haunted, almost as if she was feeling guilty about something, which was ridiculous. Arthur tried to escape from the conversation, knowing that he was not going to like it.

"What? Look Gwen, I'm busy. Someone is attacking Camelot's knights near the border. I have to go."

"I know you have. But Arthur, this is important."

He sighed. "This is about the dragonlord, isn't it?" He refused to say his name, trying to keep himself distanced and impartial, but the former maid would take none of it. Her frown deepened.

"Yes, this is about Merlin. I know that magic is forbidden, but it is not the same, he is our friend. We should have at least heard his side of the story."

"I and the knights did. Now, I have to-"

"Don't move from there, Arthur Pendragon, we are not done yet. I have been thinking. I know what a dragon can do, I was here. But maybe he was right. He was trying to protect a baby, surely we can't fault him for that!"

"It was not a baby, it was a monster! Why do you refuse to see this? And even so, he can command dragons. Why didn't he stop the bloody Great Dragon before it raided Camelot?"

"Don't you see, _he_ _wasn't __a dragonlord until his father died_! And when he came back, he killed the dragon!"

"He didn't." Arthur looked grim, as realization struck him. "He never said he killed it. It was a lie."

Gwen tried to hide her shock. After a moment of hesitation, she folded her arms across her chest. "So?"

"What do you mean?"

"So, the dragon attacked almost three years ago, and never came back. Maybe we should trust Merlin on this."

"Trust _Mer_lin? Gwen, he can't walk in a straight line without falling. And now he has two powerful beasts that could destroy the kingdom under his command? Maybe I should have killed him before he could do any harm to Camelot."

The King heard the slap before he felt it, and he touched his cheek slightly stunned. He noticed that Gwen's eyes were wet and suddenly he didn't know how to feel; insecurity was slowly replaced by anger. Anger was easier to deal with.

"The law is the law. He should be grateful I let him live." He insisted stubbornly. She shot him an icy glare, and Arthur felt something break between them.

"Merlin always said that you were a better man than your father. Clearly he was wrong." And she left the room, with a finality that scared him more than any magical creature or immortal army had.

They hadn't spoken another word after that, and the ride was unpleasant; no one dared to break the silence around the King and Gwaine had not even tried any of his crazy schemes yet. A few miles before reaching the place where the last sighting had been, the knight approached him. Arthur prepared to avoid an argument, but that wasn't what the other had in mind.

"You know, they won't show themselves if we group like a bunch of sissies."

"Oh, yes? And what do you suggest, _Sir_ Gwaine?"

"Set a trap. Send someone to bait them into an ambush; if it's a knight they want, it's a knight they'll get."

"And you would be the bait." It was a crazy idea, but it might work; they may even avoid casualties. And he knew this was the kind of stunt Gwaine would volunteer to; it just seemed strange that he would suggest such an underhanded method, and he said so. The knight snorted. "Leon's idea. Do you want to finish this or not?"

They analyzed each other for a few seconds, before Arthur nodded slightly; at that, Gwaine dismounted. "I'll lead them to the dead end near the stream, east from here. Don't be late, princess."

The bandits fell straight into their trap. The mission went so smoothly that it seemed difficult to believe, and soon they had the leader on their grasp; Arthur lowered his guard, ready to let the matter rest until they were back to the citadel and the man had spent a night cooling off in the dungeons. So of course it was then when he learned that he had none other than King Caerleon captured, and was forced to take a stand right there and then. Aggravaine was quick to voice his thoughts on the matter.

"I fear it's no coincidence that all of this happened since Uther's death." And again, he was being compared to his father; it seemed as if ever since he became King he stopped being Arthur, and now he only was 'more than Uther', 'less than Uther', 'just like Uther'. He would do anything to be just himself, as before.

But he and not Uther was King now, and that meant that he had to make a choice, right here and now. To force on King Caerleon an impossible treaty that would most likely result in his death –by Arthur's hand– or to let him go free and show weakness to the world when he could least afford it.

"There must be another way."

"There is no other way. Think of it. Decide by tomorrow."

Darkness came and the hours flew by, but Arthur never moved from where he was. His thoughts kept circling endlessly and he never found a way around it. The choice was right there in front of him, but both options were disastrous.

He couldn't do this alone. He just couldn't. His father had been a great king, but how was he supposed to be worthy without a guide? Maybe Aggravaine was right; he had, after all, spent enough time on the Court to know how things worked. As a king, he was required to do sacrifices, and the life of a man, no matter how powerful he was, could not outweigh the lives of hundreds of subjects.

_Ah, but you placed a man's life above all others, did you not?_ An insidious voice kept repeating inside his head. _You let the dragonlord go… with a dragon._ That was different. He hadn't attacked him or his knights. He hadn't terrorized the villages like Caerleon did. _He is just as dangerous. How is it different?_

Would his father have executed the dragonlord? Probably. Uther had let Balinor go… but the rogue man didn't have any dragons to command. It wasn't the same. He willed himself to stop thinking about that; it wasn't helping. He needed to decide what to do with the foreign King, nothing more.

The truth is, deep down he knew what choice he would have made, had his father still be King. He would have defended Merlin, maybe not right away, but he hoped that he wouldn't have let the raven haired boy walk away like that, not without trying to understand. He knew, but he didn't want to admit it, even to himself, because then he'd have to admit that he had turned his back on a friend when it really mattered.

So he tried to think about Caerleon's fate. His thoughts kept moving in circles, but every time they strayed too out of control, he managed to remember the decision he had to take that night, and delay facing what he had done the other day. And above all the thoughts, one prevailed time and time again.

What would his father do?

"Trouble sleeping?" A familiar and incredibly annoying voice said. Seconds later, Gwaine sat close to him, passing him a water skin that Arthur took gladly.

"Something like that."

"Care to share your thoughts?"

"Look Gwaine, while I appreciate the effort, I really don't have the time to listen to you." He snapped, but if the knight felt hurt by his harsh note, he didn't show it.

"This is about what Aggravaine said." Arthur nodded, and Gwaine continued on, undeterred. "What are you going to do?"

"My father… look, I need to show my strength to the other kingdoms. We can't afford to be attacked now. There is no other way, but the treaty."

"He won't sign it."

"_Caerleon_ brought this upon himself."

"And you plan to humiliate an enemy that is already defeated and at your mercy. I should've expected it, is what nobility does best after all. You had me fooled for a moment Arthur. I thought you were different."

"You have no idea what it means to take this decisions, decisions that will shape the future of this land!" Gwaine's words had hit a soft spot. "It is my duty to place my people before anyone and anything, included myself."

There was a long pause.

"Is that so?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Hell, you think we haven't noticed you licking your wounds? You are throwing a temper tantrum Arthur, nothing more. Stop hiding under that duty crap and face your decisions."

"You've come to talk about him too, haven't you?"

Gwaine didn't answer.

"Then why are you still here? You could have gone with him, why didn't you?"

"'Cause I made a vow."

Arthur had not time nor was he in the mood to puzzle about that cryptic sentence. He was too numb to care. The decision had already been taken some time during the night. The King left, ready to write Caerleon's death sentence.

The sun was already high in the sky when Arthur finally met the other king face to face for the first time since the incident. While Leon read the parchment to the incredulity and amusement of the heavily guarded man, Elyan elbowed his fellow knight.

"Gwaine, control yourself! Do you want to get in trouble?" He murmured, while the other kept sending deathly glares to the blond.

"Right. With this Arthur I might have to go through the whole banishment business again."

"Gwaine!" The former blacksmith hushed him, not quite finding a way to refute it. "Look, I know you can't forgive him for what happened… the other day, but he is doing this in the best interests of Camelot."

"He is throwing a temper tantrum. If only Merlin was here to beat some sense into his thick skull…" He had sworn that he would protect the princess in his friend's stead, and he'd be damned if that wasn't what he did. But even if he tried, stupidity was hard to cure. Elyan hissed.

"You should not speak that way about criminals. It won't end well for you."

"What!" His shout resounded through the clearing and everyone turned to him. If looks could kill, he'd be dead several times. Finally, the savage king chuckled, and advanced forward, focusing the attention of everyone back on him. The knight barely managed to hide a scowl, begrudgingly respecting the warrior's integrity.

"Very well. Then make it quick." He got to his knees, but instead of submission, it only showed further defiance. Gwaine ignored Arthur's pleas, deciding not to think any further about either of the royals and turning to the topic at hand.

"You can't be seriously thinking that. You really think that way of Merlin?"

"What I think does not matter. Arthur is king; he decides what is best. You should know where your loyalties are."

"Oh, I know where they are alright." He left before Arthur gave the final order. Much as he didn't want to admit it, for him it was clear who had behaved like a noble, and who like a coward that day.

~)*(~

Many miles away from where the peaceful druids and the conflicted knights were, and still unaware of her involvement in the legends, a woman stood alone in her castle's battlements, waiting. She was not a damsel waiting for his lover while she listened to the idle gossip of the Court; she was strong, intelligent and very experienced in politics and war alike. It had been thirty years since she, the second daughter of a minor noble had climbed to the top of the pyramid, ruling the lands thanks to her marriage _alongside_ the king.

That didn't mean she hadn't come to respect and yes, truly love the man who had stood by her side all this time. He was rash, short-tempered but he was generous to those who earned it and also the noblest person she had ever met. He never once, not even after they married, treated her as nothing short of an equal. A fond smile made its way to her face; she didn't approve of her husband's rides, but she understood; the kingdom was safe now and there was only so much a man of action like him could take.

That evening, the setting sun was crimson. The news arrived the next morning, by a messenger out of breath, who only after a few minutes managed to compose himself enough to speak.

"The King has died."

As her heart skipped a beat, she could not identify whose voice rose behind her, who had first dared to speak or if it had been one or many.

"Long live the Queen."

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><p><em><strong>Next chapter: Moving gears.<strong>_** Gwen thinks, Morgana gloats and Merlin learns a very important lesson.**

**Please leave a review if you have the time! Thank you!**


	4. Moving Gears

**Warnings and disclaimers: First chapter.**

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><p><strong>Ch.04 _ Moving gears<strong>

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><p>The maid was furiously sweeping the floor, isolating herself in the one part of the castle no one would come looking – Uther's chambers. Both the late King's and Morgana's were off-limits now, most servants avoided them with an almost superstitious passion, so the cleaning duty fell on her; it was one of the very few chores she had left now, since she was a maid mostly in name.<p>

She didn't regret confronting Arthur, not really, but she did wonder if she could have done things differently. She wasn't even sure of what had happened. The idea was to talk to him, make him see the truth he refused to see, maybe yell a bit, but it definitely didn't involve the sudden urge to apologize once Arthur was gone or the hollow feeling in her chest now.

Everything had being working so well before. They had been lulled in a false sense of security, where all was good or evil, and that was that. She wasn't an idiot, and looking back it was easy to see that Merlin had been very nervous before they left; for once he had everything packed within the hour after Arthur gave the order to leave, pacing like a madman while she and the Knights said their goodbyes. Gwen couldn't even remember her last words to him now, and wasn't that pitiful?

The fact that Merlin could be evil was ridiculous. He would never betray them, and he had proven so time and time again. There wasn't one single rational reason to leave him behind, and there was, in fact, one very logical reason to let him in the citadel. He was, after all, the only defense they had against dragons. Gwen would never forget that moment when the still Prince had pushed her out of the way, the sight of gigantic wings flying over them and knowing that only luck was keeping them alive, and it wouldn't last for long.

How had Merlin overpowered it? How did it work? Had he tried to talk to it, maybe? The image of Merlin ordering the dragon to sit and play dead like a dog made her chuckle, because no matter how ridiculous it sounded, it seemed to fit with the image she had of the former servant.

That brought her mind back to Gaius' words the night before. Ever since the country boy came for the first time, it had been obvious that he was a mystery. Openly bad-mouthing the prince and saving his life were only the tip of the iceberg, there were many other little details, if one knew where to look. The way he talked sometimes, as if he carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders. The way he just seemed to know when something was wrong before anyone else. The way he would look sometimes when she came without knocking inside the physician's quarters… startled and afraid, as if he had been caught in the middle of a mischief.

He was clumsy, and sometimes a bit naïve (even if that trait had almost disappeared as of late) but sometimes it seemed like he was working a bit too hard to look like the idiot he wasn't.

The way he carried himself, not caring about what the rest thought, with more pride than many nobles.

God, how much had she missed?

It wasn't the first time he had felt that way; back when Morgana tried to have her executed, that question had haunted her for months. How much had she missed? Why hadn't she known? Why hadn't she seen the signs?

There was one difference now, though. Merlin hadn't betrayed them, and he would come back. It didn't matter if Gaius had given up hope, or if Arthur threatened to kill him. She was sure that Merlin's destiny was with them. How could it not be, after everything they had been through together? He was a member of the Round Table and, sooner or later, he was going to come back.

So there was only one thing left to do.

She had to learn more.

She quickly finished her chores and dashed down the stairs and to the court physician's chambers.

"Gaius? Are you here?"

No one answered. She sighed, pushing the door open the rest of the way and coming inside. Well, he probably was already doing his rounds, or maybe he had gone to the kitchens. She could wait. The maid glanced at the door at the other side of the room, but she didn't move.

But the door kept mocking her, unlocked, and after a while, she moved to stand in front of it, which had probably not been touched again since that day, and hesitantly opened it. She barely suppressed another chuckle at the state of the room. The bed wasn't made, there were clothes on the floor and a couple of books opened at random pages; all in all, it looked as if the raven head was going to burst in any moment, complaining about the 'insufferable royal prat'.

"Gwen?"

She spun around, standing up and coming face to face with the physician. She suddenly felt like a child being scolded for behaving naughtily, and shuffled, nervous.

"Gaius! I was… I wanted to talk to you."

He seemed suspicious, but let it go with a sigh. She followed him to the main room, and fidgeted when he didn't encourage her to speak. It was the strangest feeling, actually; she knew what she wanted, but was afraid that the old man would misinterpret her motivations. Gwen didn't want him to think that she was only asking because of the conversation they had had. It wasn't because of guilt; granted, she did feel guilty about the whole thing, but she wasn't trying to find some kind of reassurance for her, not really. It was something more.

She opened her mouth twice, but couldn't bring herself to speak.

"Is something wrong Gwen?" The physician said, raising an eyebrow.

"I… I wanted to know… umm… oh! Do you need me to pick some herbs for you? I mean, I know that… well, if you are running low on anything, I could do it. I know a few edible ones, and I can recognize many of the poisonous ones so, well, I'm here if you need me."

Gaius still looked at her funnily for a while, clearly not believing her, but in the end he let it go, shaking his head. "No thank you dear. I asked one of the new servants to do it this morning, he seemed quite pleased with himself… even if he did mistake _ for belladonna." He frowned, less than impressed with the servant's performance.

Gwen shifted uncomfortably, even more unwilling to reveal the real reason of her visit. She looked around, thinking about her options, when her gaze fell upon the dozens of books that littered the place. That gave her an idea; that was it! With a smile, she quickly excused herself, and dashed towards the one place where she could find her answers and no one would have to find out.

~)*(~

The woman scowled as she moved through the corridors of the castle. She had been beautiful once, but now the darkness inside her had destroyed her once noble features, her eyes darted restlessly at every little sound, alight with madness. Such filth and dullness, she thought, it was no wonder that Caerleon had been such a barbarian, and his wife wasn't any better. She barely managed to suppress a smirk; soon enough that fool Annis would kill Arthur and his trusted knights. And then, oh then… it would only be too easy to dispose of her, and with the Queen gone, Morgana would reclaim what was rightfully hers. Let the army come; her magic alone would be enough, and she had some acquaintances that would follow her every command.

Her trail had been hidden so carefully, so painstakingly and yet her plan was so simple that not even Emrys would be able to figure it out until it was too late. Yes, let him come, she thought. Let he see for himself how his precious prince falls. Her hand curled on the hilt of the dagger she carried with her, beautiful but chipped, like a mirror of her tainted soul. Emrys is not invincible, she repeated in her mind like a chant. Emrys could not prevent Uther's death. Emrys won't be my doom.

A guard came to where she was, and she could feel the fear she inspired in him, maybe even a bit of revulsion as well. It was delightful.

"The Queen has asked for your presence, My Lady. The army is ready. Caerleon will now march upon Camelot." When she was alone again, she looked outside, and at the many men assembled there. One of them would deal the lethal blow, if she didn't reach her dear brother earlier. "Wait for me, _Arthur_."

~)*(~

A warlock waited by the river, sitting cross-legged on a rock with his eyes closed, meditating. Breathe in. He concentrated on the sounds of the stream by his side, letting it take all of his worries. Breathe out. The sun was high in the sky now, and it was starting to feel uncomfortable, but he didn't move or search the comfort of the shadows.

He hadn't been told much about what was going to happen that night; all he had been able to make out was that it was some kind of ceremony, which involved almost all of the present and most likely some kind of hallucinogen, though he couldn't be entirely sure about that. He had barely caught a glimpse of the plants, so he could be wrong about their uses.

Still, he had a number of tasks to address before night came; especially since, being the most powerful warlock, he would be required to conduct part of the ceremony himself. He wasn't quite sure if it was because of the quality his magic or simply another tradition the druids had. Either way, he was determined not to mess this one up, and had done everything he could think of to prepare himself.

Meditating wasn't so bad. He grimaced when his stomach grumbled, but otherwise kept still; about half an hour later, he finally opened his eyes and rose slowly to his feet, snapping out of his self-imposed trance and heading back to the camp. He silently greeted the people outside, still a little peeved at their quiet nature, at least when they were on the outside. If it was due to the Purge or simply was a cultural belief, that he couldn't tell.

The next hours came and passed quickly, as everyone grew more and more excited. Like him, there were many people, especially among the young, that had never participated in an event such as this; apparently it was reserved for especial occasions, and, much to his embarrassment, it was both trial and celebration for those who had proved to be exceptionally adept with magic. The ultimate recognition among the druids.

The thought filled him with worry; a small part of him felt like this was some sort of betrayal to Arthur. Even being the Once and Future King, he had yet to accept magic and here Merlin was, casting aside forever his neutral position inside the magical community. No matter what happened that night, he would no longer be able to flee from being Emrys. He would no longer be 'just a servant'. After so many years, that thought scared him, like he was discarding what little protection he had had against his predestined fate.

It had to be done.

He tried to remain calm as the first stars appeared on the horizon, and everyone found a place around the great pyre in the middle of the forest. Several enchantments and magical wards, built carefully for most of the past day, ensured that no one would interrupt the gathering or even come close to it. Iseldir motioned for his right, and Merlin sat by his side, absorbing the thrill that had spread among the crowd. The leader spoke, his voice reverberating clearly in the clearing.

"We have reunited here tonight to celebrate the _tácn sylfum wyrtgernang_ with our brother Emrys of Camelot. May Avalon accompany us at this time. May Emrys See that which cannot be seen. May we bond as one with her creation. Let the ceremony begin."

The druid reached for a small bowl, which had been kept near the fire while everyone took their places. It was half-filled with a strange milky liquid, it looked harmless and not too unpleasant. Merlin took it with shaky hands, knowing this was the most delicate part of the ceremony. Holding his breath, he saw Iseldir encouraging him in the limit of his vision. He concentrated on the substance, absorbing the sounds of the forest, closing his eyes and letting his other senses take over. The magic built up inside him, and his fingers tickled.

When he opened his eyes again, the liquid was gleaming subtly, almost imperceptibly under the moonlight. He allowed his body to relax; that part was over. Now truly was his last chance to turn back; he didn't. He searched for the chieftain one last time before carefully lifting the bowl to his mouth.

The substance had barely touched his lips when he felt the magic, as Old as the universe, rising and twirling in his veins. He was dimly aware of someone taking the bowl from his hands, light-headed as he was, and soon he wouldn't have been able to tell if he was lying or standing, awake or unconscious.

The world became an undefined mass of sounds and colors. There was no way to recognize up from down, left from right; _everything_ was laid down for him and _nothing_ was there. Just outside of his reach, he could feel the identities of the druids that had been joining him, one by one. With him they formed one large entity, and yet he felt strangely detached from them. He felt this wasn't where he belonged.

Slowly, he separated from the crowd, ascending until only two or three of the flickering lights remained. The atmosphere was purer here, the colors paler but strangely shooting. He could see further, countries where the magic flared and pulsed and countries where it laid low and hidden, but no less alive. It twirled and expanded and receded, changing, always changing.

Still, he could go higher.

He continued up and up and up, until he started to feel uneasy. The few presences that he could still feel until now disappeared one by one as it became impossible for them to follow; and with them went the lights and sounds of the world.

When the warlock finally woke again, the sun had begun to move west; he had slept for a night and most of a day. He felt dizzy, and a bit nauseated but he managed to sit straight with just a groan. Most of the druids were awake already, relaxed and moving lazily; the wards must still be working then.

A middle aged man with disheveled hair and drowsy eyes realized that he was awake, and approached him with a steaming cup in his hands, handing it to him with an encouraging smile.

"It is just chamomile. It'll help settle your stomach down." The warlock accepted it, grateful, and the druid chuckled. "I still remember my first _wyrtgernang._ It was for the chieftain. He had a rough time the next few days too, even if it embarrasses him now."

"And Loren never fails to remind us about it." A secure voice interrupted them, slightly annoyed. Iseldir came into view, but before the warlock could try to stand, he sat down by their side. It was then when Merlin realized something; both druids were behaving so differently from how he had first seen them, so… relaxed. Was it the aftermath of the ceremony, or did they truly see him as kin now? "You did well, Emrys. Do you understand now?"

He was about to answer, to tell what he had seen and learned in his trance, when he found that he couldn't. The events of the last hours were there, in the limit of his conscious mind, but there was no image associated to them. He could remember seeing and learning something of vital importance, but now it was lost… no, not lost. Only hidden.

He felt a new found resolve, a sense of purpose that for the first time in ages didn't feel oppressive. In this moment, he didn't feel trapped by forces he couldn't even comprehend, even if he had no rational answers, even if to anyone else it may seem as if nothing had changed. Now he understood what Iseldir had meant before the ceremony.

"I do. It is a strange feeling."

"It is… though I suspect you reached further than any of us has ever done." They remained a few minutes in silence, before Merlin started to poke absentmindedly at the embers with a twig.

He muttered an easy incantation under his breath, the one he had done for his mother often; he waited but nothing happened. Not even a flicker of light. His eyes went wide with surprise, fear started to rise inside him, but Iseldir quickly put a reassuring hand in his shoulder. "Don't worry, this is to be expected. With the toll last night took on you, your magic must be exhausted. It will be subdued for a few days, but will recover soon. In the meantime, you are safe here. No one will attack us."

Merlin nodded, marginally calmer. But he still couldn't ignore a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, as if something bad had happened, and he couldn't do a thing to prevent the retributions…

* * *

><p><em><strong>Next chapter: On the verge of legality. <strong>_**Merlin has work to do, Arthur is not a coward and Annis is confused. **

**[The ceremony is in the process of being rewritten]**

**Please leave a review if you have the time! Thank you!**


	5. On the Verge of Legality

**Warnings and disclaimers: First chapter.**

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><p><strong>Ch.05 _ On the verge of legality<strong>

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><p>Merlin was watching the antics of the young kids, teaching them some easy tricks to memorize runes, when the message came. A pigeon arrived, carrying a parch of paper and it went directly to Iseldir; by the time he had finished reading it, a grim expression on his face, everyone was staring and waiting for the news. Finally he spoke.<p>

"The armies of Camelot and Caerleon are at the border. There is war." There was a strangled gasp from somewhere around the crowd. Merlin was instantly on his feet, taking two tentative steps towards the chieftain. Why? Why did it have to be now, when he was mostly helpless? And a war?

"What happened?"

Iseldir looked solemn. "It seems that Queen Annis initiated the hostilities." The warlock felt slightly and strangely relieved, but it was short-lived. "Apparently she wants revenge on Camelot for King Caerleon's death."

"Nonsense." One of the elders spoke. "Queen Annis knows the risks her husband faced, and she understands the repercussions of a war. She values her people too much to compromise them for such a petty revenge."

"Arthur." The warlock's voice resounded in the clearing, and everyone turned to look at him. "He might… he might have…" No, the Arthur he knew would never do anything that dangerous either, he… "_Aggravaine._ He must have tricked Arthur into this."

The chieftain looked solemn, before reattaching the letter on the pigeon and sending it to the next druid clan. "We leave in an hour. It is imperative that we are far from here before the battle commences. Everyone, start preparing." The people began packing expertly, used to their nomad life; but one was not satisfied with this.

"Iseldir." '_I am going to Arthur.'_

The druid had been expecting this; it was not only Emrys' destiny; his friends were also in danger, and he was not a man to abandon those he cared for. "Your magic is still too weak. In your current state, you can barely light a fire. If you go now, you could die, are you aware of that?"

"They need me. I'll figure something out."

The older man nodded, and Merlin turned quickly, stumbling in his haste to reach his friend before it was too late. Many noticed this, and many came to give their own warnings and good-byes; the warlock had already found a place among them in the little time he had spent in the camp. Iseldir stopped him one last time before he set off in his horse, handing him a parcel.

Merlin opened it to find a hooded cloak, teal colored, sewed in the way of the druids. A brooch sporting a silver oak was used to fasten it in place. He let his fingers run over the fabric, too amazed for words.

"This is a symbol for our people. It will allow you to be recognized as one of us by most of the magical folk, but it can also conceal your presence when you do not wish to be seen. Use it wisely, and may Avalon watch over you in your quest, Emrys."

"Thank you. This means so much... I won't let you down. I'll stop this war."

"Stay safe."

With one last glance behind, the former manservant of the King galloped forward, knowing that he had mere hours and not a single second to lose, a plan already forming in his head as the cloak floated in the wind.

~)*(~

Getting close to the border had been the easy part. Infiltrating the camp was another one altogether. Merlin left his horse as close to it as he considered safe, which wasn't much, and walked towards the hugest tent, presumably the Queen's. He made sure once again that the hood covered his face as he slipped past soldiers, hiding behind barrels and trying to be as inconspicuous as he could. He didn't have any particular interest in finding out how much scrutiny the cloak could take.

He barely had time to react and duck behind a box when someone exited the tent, standing proud but obviously disgusted about something. He held his breath for a moment when he recognized the figure; Morgana. It had been so long since he last saw her, ever since she fled Camelot with her mortally wounded sister. Of course she was behind this. She was his darkness, his counterpart, and that meant that she would never stop trying to take the light's place. In that moment, the warlock felt an overwhelming pity for the woman he had once trusted.

"This is a mistake, Annis. I am warning you, don't underestimate Arthur's knights."

"I want to see Camelot fall as much as you do, but there are lines I won't cross." Came the stern reply from the inside.

The instant the Queen could no longer see her Morgana grimaced, muttering under her breath. As silence settled down again, Merlin could hear his heart beating frantically. It was like only now did he realize just how much danger he was in, and it scared him. He almost felt like turning back and running away, and he spent several minutes trying to steady his shaking legs. He checked the hood once more before striding to the tent, startling the guard in the process.

"Wh-who are you? Wh-what do you want?"

He hid all of his nerves and decided to go with the 'mysterious and slightly creepy' act, remembering of the sorcerers he had often faced on Arthur's behalf.

"I want an audience with Queen Annis." He strolled forward without waiting for a reply, and the occupants of the tent looked up from where they were studying a map of the battlefield, surprised. A woman, the Queen, was the first to move, and she subtly reached for the dagger she kept with her at all times. With just one glance the warlock realized that it was not someone he wanted to cross, but fear wouldn't get him anywhere.

"Who are you and what business do you have here?"

Merlin bowed slightly, not breaking eye contact even if she couldn't see his face. By her expression however, and the lack of swords pointed at his neck, he knew that she had recognized his clothes.

"I wish to stop unnecessary bloodshed and malice, Your Highness. Violence will not bring you any peace, nor will it lighten your deep loss."

She narrowed her eyes. "Maybe not, but I fail to see how does that concern you. Have you come to speak in place of your Clan?"

"No, Milady. My Clan is not in danger and is heading to safer lands as we speak. I have come in place of my friends and family, to make you see reason while there is still time. Do you truly believe that this war will bring anything but harm?"

"Are you an ally of Camelot then?" The men at the back moved threateningly, but Merlin refused to yield. "Has King Arthur sent you like the coward he is?"

"He may be inexperienced and unsure of his place, but Arthur is by no means a coward."

"A man who wields a sword against an unarmed one is a coward!" Ah, so there it was. Merlin couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed, at Arthur for giving in and at himself for not being there for him. "His actions have already spoken for him." Seeing her determination, but also her righteous nature, Merlin knew that he had to take an all-or-nothing gamble.

"Then let them speak again." She observed him carefully, as if trying to gauge him. "I won't ask you to call off the battle, and it is not my place to do so. I'm just asking you to keep an open mind. Should Arthur try to take responsibility for his actions, should he cast away his pride for his people, please give him the chance to prove himself worth of your forgiveness. That is all I can ask for."

That rendered her speechless, and Merlin tried not to fidget, more than ready to flee now. At least, she spoke. "Do I have your word that you won't intervene if I do?"

"You have my word."

"Why would someone of your kind protect him, when he would get you killed? What has he done to earn your respect?"

"A believe in the man that he is, and the King that he can be. I have seen him ready to give his all for his subjects, more than once. I have seen him risk his life for a servant, I have seen him strike down unjust old laws and follow his heart instead of what others wanted from him. One day, he will see it too."

"_Sy hé úre ágend?"_ She asked, testing him as if she doubted of his druid identity. Merlin had to suppress a snort, not missing the subtlety of her phrasing. 'Is he your master', but using the word that meant owner as well. She was obviously well versed in the Old Tongue, even if she wasn't a sorceress herself.

"_Án hine ic i folge_." He took that as his cue to leave, while the Queen watched him with a calculative look on her face. 'Only him I serve', but as hers, his words had had a double meaning, as it was implied that they were in fact equals, and he simply chose to follow. The woman smiled, amused by the strange man. And maybe, just maybe, wanting his words to be true.

~)*(~

The preparations had finished ages ago, and now he was left alone with his thoughts. He wanted to keep a clear head tomorrow, so drinking and staying up late with the rest of the knights was not an option.

He understood the Queen's motivations, and he didn't even blame her for them. Hadn't he felt the very same way, not so long ago? Even now, sometimes he felt as if he would do almost anything for the opportunity to run that old sorcerer Dragoon through. To his credit however, that wasn't very often. There had been something in his eyes…

But the point was, he understood why Queen Annis had done something like that. For once, no matter what his uncle said, he knew that it had nothing to do with his father or even with the King of Camelot. It was with him, Arthur.

That was the only reason he even dared to contemplate one of the craziest and more dangerous plans he had ever had. And as always, it was just too easy to carry it out.

The blond didn't dare to let his guard down even as he passed the no-man's land, knowing that there would be no interruptions. Even so, he had been so caught up preparing his words that he had barely had time to register the guards standing in front of him before he crashed into them and was unceremoniously shoved in the presence of the Queen.

Arthur thought that the title suited her well; much better that it had suited her husband, and he couldn't help but respect the man, the integrity and nobility he had shown in his last moments. She seemed… startled and maybe a bit wary but there was something in her expression that he couldn't place… something that, however, gave him the confidence to make his request.

When Arthur headed back, he felt lighter than he ever thought possible. It had worked perfectly… of course he still had his misgivings and he was still going to be risking his life, but now he knew that no one else would suffer for his sake. Under the moonlight and with a new purpose, even his dark thoughts seemed to dissolve; he didn't need to think and he did not have time to feel guilty, he only had only to do what he had to do.

Camelot was too far away after all, and it was easy to pretend that his problems where there, too far to affect him, even if it was for just a couple of days. As he walked back into the camp, he failed to notice the figure that quietly slip away into the forest.

~)*(~

After his conversation with the Queen was over, Merlin knew that logically he should have gone back into hiding, and doing anything but what he was doing at the moment. Yet here he was, lurking around the camp of his former allies, trying to get a glimpse of someone who would kill him on sight. He sighed, ready to turn back when he saw a familiar figure headed towards the woods. Smiling, he waited until they were out of sight to approach him.

"Hello, Gwaine!" He laughed when the Knight spun around, eyes wide open. "Did you miss me?"

"You know you are breaking the law, don't you?" The Knight said, hesitating before shaking his head and trying to hide his surprise with a smile. He really should have known better than to expect the servant to stay away; somehow, seeing Merlin put his mind at ease, allowing him to fall into the easy pattern of camaraderie they had shared before. Merlin realized the change in his attitude, and grinned.

"No, I am not." Before Gwaine could think of something to say, he pointed up to the camp. "That is Camelot. It is not my fault that you decided to go for a walk at the other side of the border in the middle of the night."

"Touché." The brunette mock saluted. He moved forward, convincing himself that he truly was seeing the man in front of him. He began to say something, but stopped, frowning, when he took a closer look at the former servant. "What's that? It's barely been a week and you've already become a druid?" Seeing the startled look on the dragonlord, he waved his hand. "I am not as thick-headed as your Pratness over there. I've seen plenty of druids before to recognize their clothes."

"I've been living with the druids yes. I needed to go somewhere where I could still keep an eye with Arthur and… that seemed like the best place." They stood in silence for a while.

"So, that dragonlord everyone was talking about was your father." Merlin nodded. "What about the dragon egg?"

"It is a white dragon. His name is Aithusa, the Light of the Sun. It turns out, I had the ability to help him hatcht all along."

"I'm sorry." Gwaine suddenly interrupted him.

Merlin blinked, looking at him questioningly. "What for?"

"Well, if I hadn't found that egg, you would have kept it a secret, right? Pretend that it was destroyed and keep up pretending that you were just a servant. Maybe you could have even stopped this war." Gwaine passed a hand over his head. "Arthur has been acting like an ass lately. I hadn't realized how hard it is to keep him alive."

Merlin smiled bitterly; he suspected that nothing could have stopped Arthur from being swayed by Aggravaine. With the prince, it was often about cleaning his messes and not stopping him from creating them in the first place.

"Gwaine, I need you to do me a favor." He said. "I need you to keep an eye on Aggravaine. I don't trust him. I saw him sneaking out of town a few times before, and the way he looks at Arthur sometimes… It reminds me of Morgana after she turned her back on us."

"I'd have done that either way, my friend. But I'm afraid that some Caerleon soldier will get a go at the princess before he does." He raised an eyebrow when the warlock chuckled, shaking his head.

"I don't think you have to worry about that. Arthur is more resourceful that you give him credit for." He made a pause, looking at the stars before continuing. "How are they doing? Arthur, Gwen… Gaius?"

"Gwen chewed Arthur out for banishing you. And I had never seen Gaius so depressed, but he is doing fine. They'll be better when you can come back, though." The warlock didn't miss the fact that the Knight was trying not to give many details, and he didn't have the strength to ask any further.

"How can you be so sure? That I'll be able to return?" Ah, there was the question he had not been able to address before. He had to believe that the King would forgive him, eventually. But he didn't dare.

"Well, that's the thing with Pendragons, isn't it? They are stubborn as hell, but not very consistent." He punched Merlin in the arm. "We'll just have to wait until the next undead army appears, and then you can come and save the day with your white dragon."

Merlin didn't laugh, and Gwaine sighed, frustrated. "Look, I can't promise you that the prat will see reason, but I can promise you this: you still have friends in Camelot. You are not alone, and don't think we'll rest until you are back, got it? For now, we should just worry about tomorrow, and we'll deal with the rest as it comes."

Ever since that moment in the forest, Merlin had wished for everything to go back to how it had been, but he had soon realized that wouldn't be possible. It was never going to be the same again, and it was time to fully accept that. Things had changed, and would keep changing before they could get back to a sense of normalcy.

But finally he realized that there were things would not change. Loyalty, and friends, he still had those. One day, there would be nothing left to hide; maybe they still weren't prepared for that now, but one day they would.

"Alright."

He could wait for that day.

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><p><em><strong>Next chapter: Heavy heart.<strong>_** In which miracles happen and yet there are no spells casted.**

**Please leave a review if you have the time! Thank you!**

**P.S.: I have no excuses for taking so long to update, I really am sorry. May and June are the worst months of the year, all the tests and projects annihilated my muses, plus this story has been undergoing major changes and I was at a bit of a loss for a while. Thanks a lot for sticking with me, and for prodding me to write faster. Once again, I apologize for the delay. Gosh, I only managed to update regurlarly for a month. I suck at organizing my time. And I'm not so sure about the ending, if feels kinda lousy but well...I might try to go over it again later.**


	6. Heavy Heart

**Warnings and disclaimers: First chapter.**

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><p><strong>Ch.06 _ Heavy Heart<strong>

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><p>The first lights of the day came and the camp began to stir at the other side of his tent, still unaware of the events of the last night. Soon, the men would stand in formation, ready for the order to attack. With the beginnings of a smile, Arthur called his uncle, Sir Leon and the other generals; he didn't complain when Percival, Elyan and Gwaine followed, already expecting it.<p>

"There won't be war against Caerleon." The reaction was immediate. Arthur took a quick look across the room to see expressions that ranged from shocked to confused to downright outraged. It was something he had been expecting, though. He continued, knowing that he had to explain before the rest had a chance to start asking. "I reached an agreement last night with Queen Annis. The result of this war will be decided in a combat of champions; should we win, Caerleon's army will retreat immediately."

That had the desired effect, as it distracted everyone from the fact that their leader had gone alone to the lion's den. Or almost anyone, because Leon's icy look told him that someone was not going to let this one slide once they were alone.

"And what, may I ask, would happen if their champion wins?" One of the generals said.

"Queen Annis would gain rights over half of Camelot's lands." Now most of them were outraged. Only the Knights of the Round Table kept their cool, obviously having realized where this was going. "There is something more. I have already decided who will be our champion."

"With all due respect Your Highness, this is not a situation to be taken lightly." Aggravaine hissed, oddly disturbed at the thought. "How could you be so foolish? What would your father think if he knew?"

"It is not him who brought this war upon us. I will not endanger my subjects because of the mistakes I have made, as long as there is another way to right them."

"By exposing them to the tyranny of the Queen?"

"Rest assured uncle, I have _no_ intention of losing the fight." Arthur rebuked, getting a little annoyed at the noble's lack of faith.

"… You?"

"Yes, I shall be our champion this time. As I said, I intend to take _full_ responsibility for my actions." He glared at the nobles, daring them to contradict his decision; some of them gaped, but no one dared to complain, in case they were asked to step in for the king. "Now that this is agreed on, I need you to gather your men and take preparations. We will discuss further matters once this is taken care of."

One by one, everyone but his Knights left the tent, his uncle being the last one. It wasn't until he was out of hearing range that the knights confronted him.

"What were you _thinking_? They could have killed you! Why didn't you tell us to go with you?"

"It was the only way. Queen Annis would never have heard me out if I was guarded; I still don't know how I managed to convince her to agree." And there was _another_ reason for which he was glad to have been alone, though he wouldn't admit it. "I don't think she would have killed me anyway. She looked… surprised."

"Of course she would be, she wouldn't expect the King to be that reckless."

Arthur frowned, unable to explain what he had seen, and realizing now that he had most likely imagined it. After the initial shock had receded, she had almost looked as if… she should have _expected_ him. How could that be?

"We must inform her of Camelot's choice of champion, and I need to talk to my men. Leon, I'll need you to support me, should problems arise."

"Of course, sire."

"I'll take the message to her." All of them turned to Gwaine, who seemed unusually serious. "Hey, if the princess can go alone, I don't see why I couldn't." The knight sighed when he realized that he wasn't getting out of this without an explanation. "Alright, I _am_ curious about the Queen… I grew up in Caerleon's lands, you know? The stories about her temper…"

His plan worked as the knights made a disgusted face; better let them think that this was about his… interest in the opposite sex than the _real_ reason. At the end of the day, the Queen was as responsible for his mother's fate as her husband had been, since she could have easily convinced the King to support them.

"I'll behave, promise."

Arthur examined him for a few moments before finally nodding. "Fine, but if you so much as _think_ of stepping out of line…"

"Yeah, yeah, save it."

~)*(~

To say that Queen Annis was bewildered would be a grave understatement. Once she learned of her husband's tragic demise, it had been easy enough to hate the young King for it, to convince herself that he was a coward who deserved this fate. She had been ready to ride against Camelot and all it represented, and burn it to the ground.

Now, however… First it had been that strange druid. Oh, she knew that being a druid, that man –she was sure that he was a man, a young one at that, but who knows when dealing with his kind– was bound to behave in strange ways, because they were secretive and tended to follow their own plans and not share them with anyone else. But not even a druid would step up for a Pendragon, much less like this one had, riding alone and using only his sheer faith on the King as his only weapon against her reasons.

Then there was the young Pendragon as well. He had placed his life at her hands, coming alone in the night with only a sword for defense. He had accepted his error and practically _begged_ for the sake of his men. She had seen it in his eyes, now that she knew where to look. A young and inexperienced boy, forced to take over a kingdom, trying his best and failing, yet standing again.

After he left, and the memories dulled in her head, her confusion slowly turned to anger. She had almost convinced herself that this was all a trick staggered by a coward, that he had convinced someone to play the part of a druid… when she knew deep down that it was not possible, such knowledge and ease with the Old Tongue the man had.

And _now_ a knight of Camelot had come to announce the identity of the champion… the King himself, but she barely could register the words as she took in his appearance… there was something on his features, something in the way he moved like he didn't have a care in the world.

"And who has brought this resolution?" She asked, trying to find out why this man looked so familiar.

"I am Sir Gwaine of Camelot." There it was again, that glint in his eyes that she had already seen somewhere before. As if he was studying her –her! – just as she was studying him. "If that is all, M' Lady…"

And then, at last, she placed it. _M' Lady_, she had only known one person to pronounce it quite like that… Yes, she remembered now. Even after almost twenty years, she still remembered the noble that had come to the King, married to a knight fallen in battle, cradling a small child close to her and stripped of all her goods by her husband's relatives. She had asked for help, but those had been difficult times. And the young widow had powerful enemies, ones that the crown could not yet defy, not so openly at least.

They had turned her away. There had been no other way, not without risking more than what was sensible to. But even after gaining full control over the Court and eliminating all of the leeches and traitors her desperate look had haunted the Queen sometimes, when someone else came asking for help, and she had often wondered what had happened to the woman.

Did she dare to ask? To recognize it? She suddenly felt old and tired, part of an era that was coming to an end.

"Very well. The combat shall take place in two hours. Will your champion be ready by then?"

"Of course, M'lady." He smiled a disarming smile that didn't reach his eyes, and left with a slight bow.

~)*(~

The time had come. Merlin had come as close as he could to the field, but he could barely make out the figures of the two champions. He grimaced; Queen Annis' man was almost twice as big as Arthur, and would be difficult to beat even in a fair fight.

Yet there was nothing he could do. It was a battle that Arthur would have to fight alone. He didn't need to see Morgana to know she was smirking, probably on the front lines right by the Queen's side.

He could do nothing but trust.

Finally, the champions unsheathed their swords and slowly began to circle one another. The atmosphere grew tense, even the birds seemed to stay still. Merlin held his breath, waiting. He could make out Arthur's figure, accommodating his grip on the sword, and he could feel the first strike a second before it came; years of watching Arthur fight allowed him to keep track of his fast movements as the King dodged and slashed.

It was an even battle; the giant might have been able to destroy Arthur with one well-placed hit, but could not match the blonde's speed and technique and was forced to guard and spin more often that he seemed used to.

The warlock gasped when, for a second, it seemed as if Arthur would lose hold of his sword, caught in one of his enemy's feints; but sheer stubbornness helped him overcome it, letting his weapon slide along the other's edge and quickly backing a step, his eyes never leaving the warrior's face.

For a long time, it seemed as if there would be no victor; then the younger made a mistake, he got to close and the giant managed to punch him, sending him crashing down to the ground. Merlin could picture the faces of the knights, sure that they mirrored his own look of helplessness and trust; Arthur didn't disappoint, managing to roll out of the way and, with one swift movement, he drew first blood.

The giant stopped for a second, mesmerized by the blood running freely down his cheek. With a guttural scream, he turned around and blocked Arthur once more, but anger was clouding his mind; his attacks grew wilder, less coordinated yet the King was barely able to keep up with the strength each blow had.

"This is gone on long enough. Time to turn the tables. I've enchanted Arthur's sword. Holds the weight of a thousand edges. No one could bear it for long."

Knowing what to expect, Queen Annis had no trouble noticing the moment when Gorlois' daughter's magic took effect. The blond warrior was stopped in mid swing, his sword almost falling to the ground even when he managed to keep his grip on the hilt. Arthur would die. Without his weapon, he could not defend himself and execution would be delivered; her husband would be avenged.

Without his weapon.

_Coward_

She looked around, hoping that no one had seen her moment of weakness. But it was still there, and the single word echoed on her mind, sounding strangely similar to the druid's voice. The tables had turned in a few seconds, and Arthur was half-lying on the ground, still refusing to let go of his sword.

She saw her husband once more, his stubbornness. She remembered admonishing him after putting himself in danger while they were reconstructing the kingdom. 'I won't ever be killed' he had said, 'when the time comes, it'll be my choice to go.' She had snorted, and he had kissed her.

Arthur wouldn't have a choice.

He didn't run away. He kept fighting.

She saw her champion slashing the King down and making him fall on one knee, lowering his head but making one last futile attempt to lift the sword and defend himself.

_Coward_

"Wait, Morgana." The words came a bit harsher that she intended; she placed a hand in the dark haired girl's shoulder, pushing her backwards. Caught by surprise, the witch stumbled a little, and her concentration broke for a moment. Morgana looked at her, trying to understand what had happened but the damage had already been done. From the corner of her eye, the auburn haired woman saw how the blond managed to lift his sword to block the next attack; both swords fell to the ground with the impact.

The warriors froze for a second, before they scrambled forward to reach them; Arthur was faster, but he was injured. The giant kicked him and sent him flying on his back, pushing him away from his trusted weapon. Using his last reserves of strength, the King rolled to one side, closer to his rival but also to the other sword lying on the ground; in one last desperate effort he managed to grasp it in time.

Annis watched as the fight finally came to an end; her champion lifted the sword above his head, ready to deliver the final blow and, too stunned to move again, Arthur fought to simply lift his arm and guard. The Queen heard the witch swear under her breath, her eyes burning gold once again. It seemed that she didn't care about anything other than killing her half-brother, and would not bear to watch without doing anything.

The clearing had grown silent on both sides, everybody catching his breath; the giant grunted and lifted the sword higher, but just as he was about to run the blond through, he lost his grip on the weapon, letting it fall behind him with an ominous cry. Those few seconds were enough for the king, who somehow managed to get to his feet again and stabbed him through the leg, making him fall.

Arthur stood with a weapon that was not his own, swapped in one moment of confusion, but it would serve its purpose. The giant was at his mercy and, disarmed and unable to get on his feet, the battle was as good as over. With one last glance at his army, Arthur prepared to deal the fatal blow.

It never came. The sword was imbibed to the ground, just by the giant's head. As the chants and cheers exploded among Camelot's army, Arthur allowed himself to smile, and helped his rival to sit down; a few moments later two of Caerleon's men were taking him away, and the blond slowly started to climb back to the main camp. He felt exhausted, physically and mentally, but at least he could see the end of this plight, finally.

While Arthur got back to his knights, two magicians disappeared from sight; one towards the forest and one to the Queen's tent, their moods complete opposites from each other. The warlock was smiling, exalted; Arthur had pulled through once more, he had shown his value once again and soon he would turn into the King he was destined to be. The witch scowled, her plans foiled. She didn't know how, but she was sure that it was Emrys who had caused the Queen's change of heart. She realized in that moment that the only way to kill her brother would be to do so herself. The next time, there would be no intermediates between her and her prey.

Far from the two, and even before Queen Annis assured him that the contract would be fulfilled, Arthur already knew that it would happen. The woman had a fiery temper, but the young King had learn a valuable lesson from her and her husband, a lesson about integrity; both King Caerleon and Queen Annis had a strong will and a strong set of values that they were willing to defend until death, and he admired them for it.

She offered her hand, and he shook it as an equal, feeling the importance of this one moment, almost as if it fit in the grand scheme of things. While he pondered this, her demeanor changed, and her eyes regained that calculative glint they had had back in the tent.

"Tell me something. You spared my champion; why?" She asked, and Arthur realized that this was it, the ultimate test from the proud Queen.

"Because it's not victory I seek. It is peace. I hope that today will mark a new beginning for our kingdoms." He looked at her in the eye, and his true nature shinned through for a moment.

"There is something about you, Arthur Pendragon." The Queen said with a faint smile. No, she would not regret what she had done, especially since thanks to that, for a moment she was able to see the same thing that had compelled a magic user to vouch for the son of a tyrant. Yes, it was definitely hope, hope for a future larger than them.

The Queen turned, ready to leave, but she stopped one more time. "I won't pursue revenge any longer, but there are others who will, Arthur Pendragon. Be sure to choose your allies wisely, and keep them close."

And she left, leaving a bewildered king behind. Once the young man was out of sight, she smiled more openly; one day he might embody Albion's hope, but he still had a lot to learn before that day came. And she had the suspicion that he would not be alone, whether he was aware of it or not.

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><p><em><strong>Next chapter: Old Books Piling Dust. <strong>_**And while the knights fought, back at the citadel…**


	7. Old Books Piling Dust

**Warnings and disclaimers: First chapter.**

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><p><strong>Ch. 07 _ Old Books Piling Dust<strong>

* * *

><p>Gwen had always loved the library. Ever since she first saw the place, even before she was able to read, the sight of the dusty books and dripping quills never failed to sooth her. Admittedly, for many years it had been just that, a place of fantasy, a place she could never hope to come close to, her who had been born a peasant with no formal education.<p>

It had been Morgana the one who taught her first how to read and write in stolen moments Lady and maid had together, before she retired for the night or assisted her during the meals, and Gwen knew that she hadn't imagined the affection of those days. Even after everything that had happened, she still treasured those memories, and still felt a surge of pride at being able to pry open the secrets of the library's inhabitants.

That day was not an exception, even if she was not foolish enough to think that it was going to be an easy task; someone with such a profound hatred of magic as Uther had had wouldn't have permitted those books out in the open, but surely he wouldn't have checked all of the books right? There was a chance she could find something.

Watching Geoffrey doze in his desk, she decided against waking him, and instead she slipped to the right, her eyes roaming over the covers of the books waiting for a sudden burst of inspiration.

It was pure luck actually, that she noticed that shelf. Unlike the others, it seemed somewhat loose, and with less dust, as if someone came here often and even moved it around. Curiously, she approached it and pulled one of the books.

She yelped as the bookcase gave in and rotated, sending her stumbling into a secret chamber. Slowly she looked around, immediately sensing something old and powerful shimmer on the walls and the objects of the room. A part of her mind feared it and was telling her to flee, but she dismissed the thought; it was like being afraid of the dark. There was nothing here that would hurt her.

A strange barrel gave a jerk nearby, and she flinched when something similar to a growl came from it. Looking around, she stepped away from it and reached the bookshelf on the furthest corner. The maid gasped, looking at the titles; they were magic books! All of them were beautifully decorated in golden streaks and red and green leather, seemingly unaffected by the march of time.

She got closer, passing a finger along the spines, reading the titles with mild curiosity and skipping those in languages she couldn't understand. _'Limits of a regeneration spell', 'Fifty ways to control fire', 'Starswirl the Bearded: life and works', 'Mythical beings and their bonds with humanity'…_

With a shiver of anticipation she took the book from the shelf, sitting cross-legged on the floor for lack of a better place. She quickly shifted through the pages, barely stopping to appreciate the quality of the engravings until one of them caught her eye. The great lizard stood with majesty, wings half stretched and head pointing at the sky. It was a terrifying sight. Gwen finally turned to the intricate calligraphy, slowly deciphering it.

… _Dragons are beings of awe. They rarely mix with the human affairs, but their wisdom far surpasses that of the most renowned sage. The most powerful of their kind can even glimpse elements of both the past and the future, and all of them are well versed in the old prophecies and traditions. They live for hundreds of human generations, and their hard scales and size ensure that they don't have natural enemies. _

_No sword can kill such a beast neither will they be affected by anything but sorcery of the highest level, and the strain of the incantation would most likely kill the perpetrator along with the Dragon. Dragons breathe magic as they breathe fire…_

Gwen frowned, the image portrayed in the book clashing with what she had witnessed before. It almost sounded as if they had a… conscience of their own, more than a dog or a cat does. She tried to get her head around that fact, but she found that she couldn't; who could have reasoned with the beast that had attacked restlessly for three nights?

… Obviously a person had.

… _but Dragons cannot be understood without understanding their bond with a particular tribe of humans, who live and die near them; they are known as the Dragonlords, and no man is nobler than one of such title. _

_Dragonlords inherit their power by rights of birth. To ensure that their number does not increase exponentially, one and only one descendant can develop the abilities of his predecessor; it has been recorded, however, that should a Dragonlord not have a rightful heir he can make a blood pact with a worthy person to perpetuate the tradition._

_The descendant is thus chosen among the Dragonlord's progeny, but two factors have to be completed before he or she can be acknowledged. First, they won't inherit the power until the previous wielder has been returned to the Mother Earth. That ensures that the ability they possess is kept pure and undiluted, and does not fade as the generations go._

_Even then, their worth must be appraised before being allowed to be a part of the tribe. Among the rituals, they are required to face a grown Dragon and connect with him, and only after showing their pure heart will the new Dragonlord be acknowledged. In the Old language of Dragons, this is known as 'Ehsbalia'_ _the coming of age. Normally the candidate is accompanied by older kin, who instructs them before the final test, but it is something they ultimately must face alone…_

Merlin had been alone, truly alone. There had been no one left to ensure that he wasn't harmed, that he knew what he was doing. He was the last Dragonlord, and now it sunk with all of its meaning.

There was no one left like him, no one who understood but a beast who had tried to destroy his home and kill his friends. Even then, he had spared its life and let him leave, and had also taken the chance to increase his family.

…_What the ignorant fail to notice is that a Dragonlord does not force his will over a Dragon, nor does he treat the magnificent lizard with anything less than the uttermost respect, for Dragonlords and Dragons have surpassed the bonds of blood, and are, above all, without exception, kin. _

_They are bonded in mind and soul, and can communicate through great distances without a sound. The death of just one member of this eclectic tribe is met with mourning from countless voices, for miles and miles away from the fact, and every new addition is celebrated greatly …_

She sighed, and was about to close the book and return it to its resting place when one last paragraph caught her attention, opening a world of possibilities that had not even crossed her mind before.

… _Most Dragonlords choose to study sorcery in hopes to reach a higher understanding of their nature, and magic courses strongly on their veins, giving them an above average resistance and unusual foresight in regards to its use. Rare cases have been known where the Dragonlord could not conjure spells on their own; on the other hand, the magical characteristics of their people had led many to believe that only among Dragonlords can the Immortal Warlock be born, the one who during the darkest era shall be known as Emrys …_

Gwen doubted that Merlin had had the chance to study magic, not in Camelot but… but he could have. He had the potential for it, and even if he wasn't a sorcerer, his heritage would explain many things… why he wasn't affected by curses and hexes as strongly as the rest of them were, why he always felt threats before anyone else did.

Of course, Merlin could have studied magic _before_ coming to Camelot, couldn't he? His friend had been a sorcerer, hadn't he?

Did she ever know the person who had been serving Arthur for years, who had supported them in their darkest moments?

And she wasn't even sure how she felt about the possibility. For most of her life she had felt herself taking a more or less indifferent stance towards magic. It was something that was there, but rarely interfered with her everyday life. Yes, she had seen sorcerers burn in the pyre, and had sensed Morgana's disgust every time it happened. Magic had saved her father's life, and ultimately magic had killed him too.

For a moment she entertained the idea that Merlin could even be the 'Emrys' fellow mentioned in the book, but she quickly dismissed it with a chuckle. Sure, Merlin was indeed unique, but the whole story seemed to be more of a legend that an actual fact.

The book slipped from her hands as she stood up and almost fell on her feet, and she scrambled away quickly. In her haste, she knocked a stack of papers lying in one of the bottom shelves, and before she could comprehend what had happened, they flew everywhere, scattering on the floor. Ashamed, she gathered them, a feeling of dread building once again as she peeked its contents. They were all documents of the Great Purge, probably forgotten or saved hurriedly by a scribe before they could be destroyed.

Carefully she gathered them, keeping apart two of them where a familiar name was imprinted. They were wrinkled and had ink stains, as if they had been written in a hurry. She read the first, the sealing wax seal still half stuck to it.

_We announce that the Grey Dragon and its rider have been located and slain according to Your Higness' order. Our overseers say that only the Great Dragon remains to this date, however we fear that Balinor has already hidden it from us, and all queries to its whereabouts have been fruitless._

The other one was dated almost a year after the first, and it was short and precise, but even more ominious.

_Confirmed the traitor Balinor is currently living in an Escetian village near the border, by the name of Ealdor. Awaiting orders._

She let the last document fall to the floor, picturing the peaceful village she had only visited once; the home of a family brutally torn apart. The last pieces of the puzzle fell into place in her heart, even if her mind had already known it.

Merlin's _father_ was a _dragonlord._ _Merlin_ was a _dragonlord._

"I'm sorry… I'm sorry, Merlin."

~)*(~

How do you tell a mother that his son has become a criminal?

That was the key of the matter, wasn't it? They both had known since the very beginning that something like this could happen. Ever since the boy had been born they had been living with the fear that they would lose him; be it because of his magic, because of his heritage or simply because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time (something he seemed quite prone at doing).

The table had been cleared of potions and herbs, and was now littered with crumbled pieces of paper. Even though the old man knew that this was useless, it was a ritual that he had performed more times that he should during his life time.

The first time had been when he lost his first patient, a young boy that had barely lived a decade. He had been young then, naïve, full of prepotency. To this day he wondered where he had gone wrong, what he could have changed to save him. Only his mentor prevented him from doing something he would regret.

The second time was when he saw Alice's name on the cursed list, and erased it on a whim; he had thought about leaving then, fleeing with his love; he didn't.

The third time was the night before breaking Balinor out of the dungeons. He had felt tired then, of the Purge, of Uther. He had even considered going to his sister with the man, but that would have raised too many questions.

And now, there he was again, standing alone in the chambers that were just too big for one person. He had promised Hunith that he would take care of her son, and for years he had managed to fulfill his promise. But not anymore.

And again, he wondered where he had gone wrong. Could he have been more involved with Arthur's upbringing? Should he have given Merlin more warnings? Should he have stood up to Uther just a little bit more more?

As the candles burned away, his eyes rested on an innocent-looking necklace that was anything but, which he had hid in his chambers not so many nights ago.

He had promised not to interfere, but…

?

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><p><em><strong>Next chapter: A minor mishap. <strong>_**Or why all-powerful warlocks should not attempt new spells without supervision.**


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